I looked at Gabriel, as distressed as a trembling monster could be. The soul was tense; he clearly distrusted Andrew and wasn’t willing to let go in the slightest. As much as I hated to admit it, the Artisan was right. If anyone noticed this…anomaly, Gabriel would be taken away in the blink of an eye. I bent down as much as I could to whisper next to his ear.

“Listen, he’s right. I can’t guide you like this anymore; it’s dangerous. I need to let go, but I’ll be right in front of you, all right? Follow me. And be quiet. Do you understand me?”

Gabriel frowned, looked down, and nodded.

Walk, bird.

He was so brilliantly smart. I smiled warmly and followed Andrew, who strode a few long steps ahead of us.

The three of us entered the Otherworld in silence. Gabriel noticed that we had left the darkness of the hall behind and blinked a bit, but he kept his head down. His eyesight was blurred, so he just followed the teal shade of the metallic feathers in my tail.

Otherworld agents of all shapes and sizes went by minding their own business in the Central Piazza. I had always felt oppressed there. Since I was used to being completely alone in a world all to myself, the sudden crowd, busy and buzzing, was completely foreign to me. Besides, this was the one place where being omnipresent became exceedingly uncomfortable. When you have to take 150 thousand souls a day through that one place, you’re bound to cross paths with yourself. And that was always bizarre.

Oh dear, I hope I’m not confusing you. I’m talking about another one of the inherent abilities of all Ankous, omnipresence. In order to do my job, I have to be everywhere at the same time, all the time.

The first time I ran into one of my multiple selves, I tried to greet him as a joke. It was a very bad idea. The second I addressed him, the other Ankou turned into a lifeless mirror as my every move and my own voice echoed into my head, horribly duplicated and distorted. I had a headache for hours after that, and that was how I taught myself to leave my personas alone to do their jobs.

We were about to reach the main gates of the Reincarnation Department when Andrew took a turn in the wrong corner. I glared at him with clear distrust.

“Uhm. The Reincarnation offices are over there. Aren’t you joining us, Andrew?” I asked, hating the rather obvious hint of hope in my voice. The Artisan beamed a wicked grin and pointed to a narrow passage I had never walked before.

“I told you I was taking care of this particular reincarnation myself, didn’t I? Come on. We’re going to my private workshop.”

I took a few steps back. Gabriel grabbed my hand again, uneasy.

“You’re too kind, Elder, but I’m sure there’s no need for us to impose on you like that. Any Reincarnation officer will do and—“

“I’m not asking, hummingbird,” interrupted Andrew, his penetrating hazel eyes once again betraying the glee smile on his face. “Let’s go.”

You don’t cross an Artisan. They are entities older even than Lord Aita and Lady Ishtar, rumored to hide a power even they respect. It was needless to say the Spirit of Departure could not oppose them without consequences.

With a dismayed sigh, I gave up and followed him. At least I could hold Gabriel’s hand again, as no one was allowed to walk those avenues without a proper invitation from an Artisan. The soul was unusually calm, I thought, for such an odd situation. Maybe Gabriel believed that all that mess was just a dream. Maybe he was just brave. Or audacious. Why did he trust me at all to begin with?

I looked at Andrew, as he had suddenly ceased his usual blabbing. He was severely glancing at every corner, squinting his eyes. I wondered what worried him so much. Only Artisans were allowed in that part of the Otherworld, and they didn’t care about others at all. Maybe he feared we were being followed? I shivered and pushed the thought aside. I had enough on my plate already to ponder about whatever dreadful being would dare to sneak on the Head Artisan’s business.

We entered the Artisan’s workshop in silence. I looked around in awe with a mix of wonder and exhaustion. I had never been inside an Artisan’s workshop before. The sheer number of new experiences I was going through that day was finally starting to get to me.

Andrew closed the door and sat down on a huge wooden table crowded with chimerical tools, enormous blueprints, and endless sheets of paper covered in sketches and handwritten notes and drafts.

“Okay, kid,” the Artisan said, rolling up his long sleeves and cracking his knuckles. “Let’s cut the crap, shall we? What you have there latched onto you is the biggest anomaly I have seen in the last century. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

I couldn’t answer. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I couldn’t even pulse a decent thought.

Andrew grinned and narrowed his eyes slowly, like a cat ready to kill its unsuspecting prey.

“I think it’s time for us to reach an agreement.”